


So, a Priest and an Angel Walk into a Bar...

by imonlyobsessed



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Costume Kink, D/s elements, Dubious Consent, It's For a Case, Jealous Sam Winchester, M/M, Mentioned Dean/OMC, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sam Winchester, Top Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 18:41:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3988603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imonlyobsessed/pseuds/imonlyobsessed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pounding bass thrummed through him, a steady counterpoint to the rush of blood in is veins. Like every other club ever, the house lights were dim except for the explosions of color near the dance floor or the lights around the pool tables and bar. He was only half paying attention to the game, which was goddamned stupid because he kept forgetting to spin his shots wide. If he wasn’t careful he was going to fuck around and accidentally beat these cocky bastards. But he just couldn’t keep his mind where it needed to be. There might have been, Sam thought with his eyes glued to his slut of a brother, a small flaw in his plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So, a Priest and an Angel Walk into a Bar...

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to save my fics from a fritzing computer. I have no reasonable excuse for this. Set sometime season 1 to avoid heaven/hell angst.

The pounding bass thrummed through him, a steady counterpoint to the rush of blood in is veins. Like every other club ever, the house lights were dim except for the explosions of color near the dance floor or the lights around the pool tables and bar. He was only half paying attention to the game, which was goddamned stupid because he kept forgetting to spin his shots wide. If he wasn’t careful he was going to fuck around and accidentally beat these cocky bastards. But he just couldn’t keep his mind where it needed to be. There might have been, Sam thought with his eyes glued to his slut of a brother, a small flaw in his plan.

All the victims on their latest case were connected to this club and they had no idea what the hell they were supposed to be hunting. Casing the place was the next logical step. And if Falcon was having a costume party, then dressing up and checking out the crowd only made sense, right? Sometimes, Sam hated his damned brain.

It had started as a joke, and Sam had had to do some fast talking to set Dean up. Giving a spiel about how the party was themed; Heaven and Hell, costume required. Offering to go pick something up while Dean showered so Dean wouldn’t be bitching about having to go shopping. Dean had caved and sent Sam out with a flat refusal to wear cheap horns. Although, when Sam handed him the garment bag the costume shop provided two hours later Dean’s face turned an alarming shade of purple.

“When this is over,” Dean stabbed a finger into Sam’s chest just below the collar of his costume, “I’m kicking your ass. _Father_.” With that, Dean had scooped up the spare duffle and slammed the bathroom door shut behind him.

It was _supposed_ to be funny. Dean was supposed to look just as goofy as all the twinks running around with too much glitter and fake wings. Except, the costume place had been shopped out and everything affordable had already been sold or rented. All that had been left were the professional wings. The ones not made of plastic or down but full-sized turkey quills, dyed off-white with flaws and down padding underneath. The ones so expensive that it almost wiped out one of their cards to rent the damned things.

When Dean came back out of the bathroom minutes later Sam began to realize that the costume wasn’t going to be as funny as he’d thought.

For starters, the wings were _huge_ ; almost five feet long, they curved up above Dean’s shoulders and stretched down to his thighs. They were wire framed and hinged so they were movable and Dean had them angled back, giving the illusion that they would spread in flight at any moment. They didn’t sit on his spine though, instead sloping gently from the curve of his neck to the outside line of his thighs. Even though they were surprisingly light, less than ten pounds, it still took a harness to keep them stable. The straps not only went over the shoulders, but another one crossed low across the chest. Sam had expected Dean to wear a colored shirt under them to hide the straps. Instead Dean had pulled a rarely used double shoulder holster out of the duffle. The black leather straps were more than enough to hide the wing harness. Black jeans, boots and all his normal jewelry made up the rest of his outfit.

There was a pinkish pucker of skin just to the left of Dean’s collarbone where a witch had stabbed him back in ’98. A jagged line on his left forearm where a black dog had laid him open almost to the bone and Sam, only fifteen, had stitched it back together; sloppy and hands quaking with a constant prayer, _dontdiedontdiedontdie_ ,running though his head. There were a half dozen more flaws across Dean’s skin that Sam didn’t even notice anymore. He was sure as hell noticing them now. Dean’s scars and tattoo stood out, starkly visible against his pale skin and the back drop of those wings.   He looked like an angel of battle, a soldier of heaven.

That small flaw in Sam’s plan? Dean was very definitely NOT a twink.

Sam had unglued his tongue from the roof of his mouth long enough to forbid Dean from taking the pistols to the club but that was all he managed. Even having to walk to the club because the wings wouldn’t fit in the Impala hadn’t been enough to clear Sam’s head. Now he was only paying half as much attention to his pool game as he should have been. None of the people in the club he’d talked to had said anything important and it was getting harder and harder to care.

It didn’t help that all of Dean’s self-consciousness had disappeared the minute they walked through Falcon’s door.  

The wings were too awkward for him try pool or darts, so Dean had set himself up at the bar and sent Sam back to the tables. Every time that Sam looked a different group of women had, well, _flocked_ to his brother’s side; hovering around while his brother laughed, drank, casually asked the necessary questions, and shamelessly flirted with them all. That, actually, wasn’t unusual. Anytime Dean let himself relax and have fun he had no problems picking up a woman. Or two. And on one very memorable occasion, four.

No, what had Sam bristling and way too focused on Dean wasn’t the women; it was the one guy in the group. The guy who was sitting at Dean’s side with his arm on the bar behind Dean’s back, a foot propped on the bottom of Dean’s bar stool and looking entirely too possessive for Sam’s comfort.  Before Stanford, Sam had seen Dean turn guys down all the time; polite and gentle and always with a small smile when he told them he wasn’t interested.  Sam kept watching, waiting to see Dean do any of that. Instead, Dean was laughing, full throated with his head thrown back, at something one of the girls was saying. He seemed completely unconcerned that this guy had all but molded himself to Dean’s side.

“-oot or what?”

Sam’s attention snapped back to the voice. One of the college guys was motioning to the pool table, “It’s your turn man.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Sam forced himself to pay attention and looked down. God what a mess. He circled the table trying to find a shot that was something between ‘clueless’ and ‘pool shark’. He was definitely going to have to pay more attention if it was going to end up being this much of a clusterfuck.

“It’s not a big deal, you know.”

“What isn’t?” Sam asked while eying the 9 ball, there was a clean line from the 9 to the back pocket. He glanced at the mass of balls halfway down the table. If he could spin it left…

“That.” The guy said, motioning back towards the bar.

Sam didn’t have to look to know what the guy was pointing at Dean. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”

The kid actually rolled his eyes. “Sure. Look, all I’m saying is; we may not be waiving any pride flags but most people here are open minded.” He looked past Sam to the bar again. “Obviously.”

Gritting his teeth, Sam forced himself not to look at whatever spectacle Dean was making now. Instead he leaned over the table and lined up his shot. The kid snorted but took the hint and stepped back without saying anything else.

The polished wood slid through his fingers, straight and smooth, connecting solidly. The cue sailed into the right side of the 9 ball sending it spinning like a top off to the left and directly into the clusterfuck sitting there. A series of clacks and the balls went scattering across the table, the 15 dropped into the side pocket and the 9 bounced off the felt before coming to a rest a hair’s breadth from the right corner.   Perfect.

The college kid laughed, “Well not what you had in mind but whatever works, right?”

Sam ground his teeth, gritting out through a tight smile, “Right.” Douche.

He sank the 9 with no fanfare or hesitation. They each had four balls left and it was their second game. He eyed the layout carefully, trying to decide if wiping the cocky little bastard off the table would entice the others to play or scare them off. There wasn’t any money riding on the games but no one wants to be humiliated. He didn’t think that this group of guys knew anything helpful, but keeping one of the tables would give him a reason to chat with the next group to wander over. There was another group at the edge of the area already, two guys and a girl, that looked like they might consider coming to play a game. He sent the cue bouncing harmlessly against a solid to give himself a little more time. The kid smiled and stepped back up to the table. It took him almost ten minutes to make up his freaking mind, but his smile became a full smirk when he actually managed to sink his next two shots. He missed on the third, a shot that would have needed way more curve than this kid could manage, but he just shrugged as he motioned to Sam. And that was just a little more cockiness than Sam could tolerate. Mind made up, he sank three of his remaining balls and had lined up the fourth when he heard, “Oh shit.”

The kid actually sounded worried, way more worried than a friendly game of pool warranted. When Sam looked up the kid was watching him, fidgeting and smiling nervously like he was suddenly afraid of Sam.  Frowning, Sam turned his head to the bar, looking right at… where Dean wasn’t sitting. Which wasn’t a big deal, except for how it kind of was because Dean wasn’t sitting at any of the surrounding tables either. Alarm shot through him. Dean would have told Sam if he was leaving, even if it was to go to a back alley for a few minutes. He stood up, scanning the club and counting the minutes backwards. How long? Around half an hour, no more, since he’d made himself stop watching his brother.

“Man, I’m sorry.”

Sam followed the kid’s line of sight and the panic in his chest relaxed when he caught sight of Dean. His brother was coming back from the bathroom, relaxed swagger and grinning like he always did after getting laid. Irritated but relieved, Sam glanced to see which classy woman Dean had picked and found the guy from the bar following his brother entirely too closely. Wait, what?

Sam watched them make their way to the bar and order drinks. The guy wasn’t even pretending to be subtle anymore. As soon as he claimed a barstool he grabbed Dean’s hips and pulled, slotting Dean between his knees. Dean just smiled wider and went, resting one hand high on the guy’s thigh and making it clear that he was angling for a second round. What the actual fuck?

Something slick and sour rose up in him when he saw the guy run his hand up Dean’s chest, pausing to flick over Dean’s nipple and making him shudder, before curling his palm along Dean’s jaw. Dean’s blush was visible even from where Sam was and that…

He had a vague notion of pitching the pool stick on the table before crossed the club. He must have because his hands were empty and his fists were clenched. He’d had to go around the dance floor so he was enough to the side that Dean didn’t see him coming until he was looming next to them. The guy’s hand had slid back down, his fingers were looped through the leather thong around Dean’s throat, and he was rubbing his thumb back and forth across Dean’s amulet. Sam cleared his throat to get both of their attentions. Dean’s eyes widened slightly but the guy just grinned and nodded at him.

“Can I help you, Father?”

Sam bared his teeth and the guy’s smile dimmed even before Sam spoke. “Sure. That,” Sam said pointing to the amulet still hidden by the guy’s hand, “is mine. And so is he. And you’re gonna get your hands off them both.”

Apparently the guy had some survival instinct. He glanced from Sam’s looming figure to Dean’s wide eyed surprise and put both hands up while he leaned back. “I didn’t know, dude. He never said. Gave me the impression he was on the market.”

Sam nodded and wrapped one hand around Dean’s arm. “Now you do.” The guy didn’t move or say anything else, letting Sam drag Dean away. Dean’s eyes were still wide and wild, like he couldn’t quite wrap his head around what had just happened and he offered no resistance as Sam pulled him through the club and into the bathroom.

There was someone at one of the urinals but Sam ignored them as he walked past and shoved Dean toward the side of the stalls. Dean fetched up against the wall hard, making the metal frame shake and a startled, “The fuck?” came from the far end.   His feathers rustled when he spun around. Sam had followed right behind him and he crowded Dean back against the wall as soon as they were face to face. There was nowhere for him to go except back and the hinges in the wings made a barely audible squeak when he pressed as tight against the wall as he could. Dean couldn’t move without being flush against Sam and while he normally wouldn’t give a damn, would shove his looming Sasquatch of a brother out of the way, his brain kept going in starts and fits and all he could think was that something was different, something wasn’t adding up. Sam’s hands were clenched at his sides and there was a fine trembling in his body that got worse as the seconds ticked by. Sam’s jaw was working, clenching and unclenching like he was chewing on the words he wanted to scream while he waited out the flush of the toilet. The door had already swung closed once and they both waited in silence while the second man made his escape.   Dean watched the door swing closed again because he couldn’t bring himself to meet Sam’s eyes, and he still flinched when the click of the latch seemed to echo through the room.

“It isn’t enough that you wet your dick with every woman we meet; now you’ve got guys spreading their legs too? When did that even start?” He gripped Dean’s chin, forcing him to look up as Sam moved that much closer; pressing the bulk of his body against his brother and his knee between Dean’s thighs.  “What did he do, huh? Did he go to his knees for you, blow you fast and dirty? Or did he just bend right over the sink and beg to be fucked?”

“Christo.”

Sam choked off a dark laugh, “Not even close. I’ve just had it with you fucking everything like you’re getting paid for it.” Sam’s eyes narrowed. There was a moment’s hesitation where he actually considered that before dismissing it.

Dean was already trying to shake his head, like he could see the path Sam’s thoughts were taking and knew exactly how much trouble that would leave him in. “Just having some fun, man.  What the fuck is wrong with that?”

Sam snorted, “You just can't help yourself, can you?  Giving it to every bitch willing to spread their legs, because you always have be the focus of someone’s attention, don’t you?”

“Sam.” Anger was threading through Dean’s voice making it less breathy and his eyes narrowed. He was starting to draw himself together and Sam didn’t want that. He trailed his hand down Dean’s throat and chest, smoothing across the warm leather straps. Dean jolted when Sam’s hand ran across his pec, thumb circling his nipple before continuing down past his waist to curl around his hips. Sam’s smirk became a smile and the moment stretched out, taffy-like, while he slotted their hips together. He paused, taking in Dean’s still swollen lips and the flush spreading across his chest. He could feel Dean’s cock thickening against the joint of his hip. “Sam?”

“You need it that badly, Dean? Need someone to put all their attention on you? Someone to take care of you and make you feel special? Owned?” Sam’s voice had kept dropping as he spoke, until he was practically purring when he dug his fingers into the jut of Dean’s hips and pulled, grinding Dean along the flesh of his thigh and back up into the curve of his hip. “Because that isn’t a problem.” Dean gasped at the rough friction and hardened the rest of the way against Sam’s thigh. His hands curled into the arms of Sam’s jacket but he seemed to lose track of his intentions because he froze there; not pulling or pushing, just holding tightly onto the material. Smile never leaving his face, Sam spread his fingers wide; huge hands cupping Dean’s ass and tracing the curves of his brother’s body.

“Sam, what’re y- shit!” Dean broke off when Sam’s hands bracketed the backs of his thighs and _lifted_. He tensed for a moment when his weight shifted before wrapping his legs around Sam’s hips and bracing his shoulders against the wall to keep from falling. The wing hinges creaked in protest and there was a soft popping sound as a couple of the joint feathers snapped.  Sam barely noticed the sounds under the quiet keening noise that slipped out of Dean’s throat. With way more patience than Sam felt like he had, he leaned forward slowly, letting Dean see what his intentions were. Dean’s eyes were like saucers and they roved Sam’s face constantly, but his pupils were blown and he didn’t protest when Sam pressed their lips together.

Nothing happened at first. Dean’s lips were hot and swollen, plush against his, but Dean didn’t move. Sam only moved back a hair’s breadth before pressing forward harder, nibbling at Dean’s lower lip until he could feel a low vibration in Dean’s chest and his brother finally started to kiss him back. Sam licked at the seam of Dean’s lips, coaxing him to open to deepen the kiss until they were moaning into each other’s mouths and he could taste the beer Dean had been drinking. He could feel the hard length of Dean’s cock rocking against his abs, trying to get friction and Sam moved his hands back to Dean’s hips. It gave Dean the leverage to rub harder against him and Sam the space to thrust up, grinding against Dean’s ass. It wasn’t until Sam had dipped his fingers into the waistband of Dean’s jeans that his brother really started squirming. Humming his approval, Sam forced his hand past the elastic of Dean’s briefs and down the cleft of his ass.

Their lips parted with a snick when Sam pulled back completely to look at Dean. His pale skin was flushed pink still and Sam could feel his half aborted thrusts, like he wasn’t aware he was still moving. Sam watched the way Dean refused to meet his eyes as Sam curled two fingers through the slick and slotted them right into his brother’s body.

Every muscle in Sam’s body tensed and fury swept through him. “You let him fuck you? Jesus Christ, Dean, you were gone less than half an hour! You musta bent over and offered that pretty ass up the minute you walked through this door.”

Dean’s head snapped up, eyes blazing, “That’s not your business.”

“It is now.” Sam pulled out and shoved a third finger in, growling low when there was only a slight resistance. Dean arched at the intrusion, body clamping down on Sam’s hand. “This damn well better be lube that’s keeping you all slick and open.”

Dean shoved at him then, dropping his legs from Sam’s waist and forcing Sam to let go. Sam withdrew his hand and stepped back, giving Dean enough room to stand on his own. “I’m not stupid, Sam. And this goddamn caveman act is getting old, real fast.”  

Sam moved before he thought, shoving Dean as hard as the close distance would allow. It was only about a foot but it was enough that there was a metallic twang when one of the hinge springs broke and the dull thud of Dean’s head bouncing off the stall wall. Sam's hands fisted in the shoulder straps and he held Dean against the wall. They both were breathing harshly, angry gasps through clenched jaws while they stared each other down, waiting for the other to make the next move. The bass from the dance floor was still beating muted around them and slowly Sam unclenched his hands.

“You know, if I thought for one minute,” Sam said as he reached for Dean’s belt, drawing the warm, worn leather through the buckle, “that you didn’t want this, I’d back off. Hell, I’d go to the guy at the bar, apologize and hand you over to him myself.” Sam didn’t pause before opening Dean’s jeans and covering the length of Dean’s dick with his hand. The cotton was hot and sticky under his palm and he smirked when Dean let out a choked noise and arched into his touch. “But I know you’re lying. This ‘goddamn caveman act’ is _exactly_ what you’re looking for and I have no problems giving it to you.” Dean slammed his head back into the wall once, twice, when Sam squeezed tight around him sending another surge of sticky wetness soaking into his briefs. Sam covered Dean’s mouth with his own, capturing another broken moan. Laughing, Sam turned and walked them toward the far wall, biting at Dean’s lips the whole way. Quickly enough, Dean ran into the counter that ran the length of the wall, hitting just below Dean’s ass. He stumbled a little, not expecting the obstruction and Sam steadied him, all the while mauling Dean’s mouth. He was going to write fucking Odes to his brother’s mouth. Hot and soft and so fucking talented, he was losing himself in the feel of Dean’s lips until he realized that Dean was moaning and rocking slowly against him. Sam broke the kiss gasping, lightheaded with the rush of air to his lungs, and took two large steps backwards. At the loss, Dean let out a whine Sam knew he would deny to his dying day and started to follow. Sam held up a hand, motioning Dean to stay still while he took a moment to breath.  

“Turn around. Hands on the mirror.” Sam didn’t recognize his own voice, broken and graveled and as completely wrecked as he felt. The space he had given Dean was barely enough room for him to turn without knocking his wings. Dean only hesitated the slightest bit before he leaned across the counter, bracing his hands on the mirror and spread his stance. Sam wondered if Dean even realized that he had ‘assumed the position’ automatically. He thought not. He could see Dean’s fingers flex against the mirror, momentarily going white like he was trying to grip the smooth pane, and he could track the tremors in his brother’s body from the whispering shudder of the wings. The right side was still set in position, angled for flight, but the hinge on the left wing had broken and the whole wing drooped, the weight of it pushing the wing forward, flush with Dean’s shoulder. A warrior angel with a broken wing, bent over the counter waiting on Sam’s will. Another burst of arousal surged through Sam sending his pulse pounding in his temple, louder even than the bass outside, and his cock pressed against the confines of his slacks, aching with need. Dean tracked his movements in the mirror as Sam stepped up to his back, fitting between his wings. Feathers tickled along his arms when he reached for Dean’s waist and hooked his thumbs into the top of Dean’s pants. He met Dean’s eyes before sinking to his knees, pulling Dean’s jeans and underwear down to his calves. He lifted Dean’s right foot to remove Dean’s boot, tucking his sock inside it, and pulled his pants off. Turning slightly, he did the left side as well, stripping Dean of everything but the wings and his jewelry. Even in the harsh florescent light Dean was amazing. Sam looked up Dean’s body, admiring the tone of his back, the muscular swell of his ass, even the bow of his legs and the soft blond curls covering them. He pulled a condom from Dean’s discarded pants pocket then stood, hands sweeping the length of Dean’s thighs to his hips and trailing his tongue up the length of Dean’s spine. Dean shivered and Sam smiled into his skin, pressing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades while he pushed three fingers into his brother’s opening. There was another flare of possession when Dean mewled and canted his hips back. “I hope you had fun with him, Dean, because that was the last time.” Sam kept his fingers close together, rubbing tight circles over Dean’s prostate. “You don’t bend over for anybody else, ever again.” A steady moan was streaming from Dean as he circled his hips, trying to push Sam’s fingers harder against him. Sam gave one last hard rub and took his hand back. He quickly tore at his own pants, almost popping the button on his slacks in his haste to get them open. He only pushed them down far enough to free himself, the elastic of his underwear snug under the weight of his balls, before he rolled the condom on.   He spit on his hand, using that to slick his length and pressed slowly into his brother. Even with as open as Dean was, Sam still had to force every inch. He felt a thrill of satisfaction knowing that he was bigger, more to take, than the ego at the bar. Dean had gone still, hands fisted against the glass and sweat beading on his skin, while he tried to relax against the inexorable push of Sam filling him.

Minutes or hours later, it all felt the same, Sam finally bottomed out with his hips flush with the curve of Dean’s ass. He could feel Dean clutching around him while his body got accustomed to the extra girth. A drop of sweat rolled down Dean’s neck and Sam found himself leaning forward, licking the moisture from Dean’s skin. Dean was moving again, hips rolling in short jerks as he started to loosen up.

“You good?” Dean gave a small nod to Sam’s question. Sam pulled Dean’s head back and mashed their mouths together in something to uncoordinated to be a kiss while he pulled out slowly. A strangled “ohfuck” punched out of Dean’s chest when Sam slammed back in and Dean dropped his head down. Taking that for the permission it was, Sam started pistoning his hips, slamming hard and fast into his brother’s body. Dean’s arms were corded with tension, braced against the slippery glass to keep him from smacking into the mirror with every jolt. Sam gripped the back strap of the shoulder holster and used that for the leverage to jerk Dean back toward him with every thrust. The wings were shuddering around him and Sam could feel the feathers tickling across the skin of his thighs, hips and arms. The thrumming bass was the beat of his heart, he could hear the whispering crackle of feathers and their harsh breathing, the slap of skin against skin and everything was them them them. He kept fucking hard into his brother’s pliant body, wanting more, wanting deeper, wanting inside Dean’s fucking _skin_ , until he could get so deep Dean would feel him for days, wouldn’t be anywhere without him. Sam knew he wasn’t going to last long, he needed it too badly.

The door clicked as it started to open and Sam was vaguely aware of voices on the other side.

“No, man wait-” The door swung open bringing a swell of music with it. A man in cheap plastic horns froze in the doorway. Sam literally snarled at the guy, hips never stopping their brutal pace.

“Shit, sorry.” They guy backed hastily out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Growling, Sam lifted Dean’s legs, one at a time, up onto the counter spreading his brother impossibly wide before redoubling his efforts, fucking Dean so hard and fast that it bordered on pain. “Mine.”

“Jesus.” The new position pushed Dean further forward and he bent his arms, bracing both of his forearms against the glass and dropped his head between them. Sam bit along his throat, leaving half crescents of teeth marks wherever he could reach. He could feel his balls pulling up, heavy and tight, and that sparking pressure growing. So fucking close.

“Mine.”   Sam growled again, biting at the tender skin behind Dean’s ear making Dean jump.

“Fuck yes, yours.”

With his face tucked into his brother’s throat, the taste of his brother’s sweat on his tongue, and Dean’s voice in his ears he came, pulsing hard into the condom. He froze, pushed deep inside with his fingers dug deep into the flesh of Dean’s hips, and let the intensity of it surge over him wiping out every other sensation except the feel of his dick pulsing inside Dean.  

Dean was still writhing trying to get more pressure and friction where he needed it. When he realized Sam wasn’t moving he grabbed his himself, jerking furiously. Sam’s hand came down hard on the swell of his ass. “No. Hands back on the glass.” Sam’s voice was completely fucked out but two more cracks on Dean’s ass made his point.

Whining Dean flattened both of his palms on the mirror. “Sam.” The desperation made Dean’s voice crack.

“Not yet.” Wincing, Sam slowly pulled out. He parted Dean’s cheeks with his thumbs to get a good look at his brother’s hole. There was still a shine of lube, the rim was red and puffy, and Dean jerked when Sam dipped a finger inside, but there was no blood. Sam had been mildly worried about that. He patted Dean’s ass almost fondly, “Don’t move.” Dean whined but he stayed still, the only thing that moved were his eyes; following Sam in the mirror while he threw away the condom and wiped off. The mirror worked both ways though, and Sam had an unparalleled view. He could see the bite marks on the back of Dean’s neck and shoulders, the sheen of sweat down the lines of his back and pooled at the base of his throat. He could also see Dean’s dick, dark red and glistening with precome, so hard that even though he was bent over and spread as wide as his hips would allow it jutted out, bobbing in the air.

“Sam, please.”

Mind made up, Sam stalked back across the room. He set Dean’s briefs to the side with Dean’s boots and gathered up his jeans. Gently he guided Dean’s legs off the counter and into the pants. By the time he had them pulled up to Dean’s hips, Dean was shaking and Sam could see his frustration spilling over. “Sammy-”

“You’re alright. I’m going to take care of you, promise. But you’ve already gotten off once tonight, so now you’re gonna wait for me.” Sam ran his palm up the length of Dean’s dick pressing it flat against his stomach, and watched in the mirror while he slowly zipped and buttoned the jeans. The wounded sound Dean made when his dick was encased in denim sent a thrill shooting down Sam’s spine. He turned Dean, stepping around those goddamned wings, and crushed his brother to him. Dean just relaxed against him, opening immediately for Sam to ravage his mouth. It only took seconds for Dean to be rocking against him and Sam pushed his hips back, forcing some distance. “None of that. We’re going back to the hotel room first. You’re gonna get that amazing mouth on my dick until you’re gagging for it so hard you can’t fucking breathe. Then you’re gonna climb in my lap and ride me until we both get off. Until then, you get nothing. You understand?”

Dean growled, “You’re a fucking cock-tease.”

Sam’s laughter echoed off the high ceiling, loud and unrepentant. “Not a tease if I’ve already fucked you, Dean.” Still grinning he scooped up Dean’s things. Dean held his hand out for them but Sam kept his boots and reached around Dean’s waist to half tuck his dirty briefs into his back pocket. “No, you’re walking out like this.” Dean’s eyes widened and his entire body blushed, but after a moment he clenched his jaw and stood up straight, eyes narrowed at Sam. His hard on was bulging his jeans and the head of his dick was just visible at his waist band since Sam had left his belt unbuckled. His bare feet were pale even against the light colored tile and Sam knew they would be starkly visible against the dark carpet in the rest of the club. The left wing was still drooping and it looked like it was being supported by the shoulder holster. The bite marks were visible from the front too and Dean’s lips were so kiss swollen they were a dark rose pink. With a satisfied chuckle Sam dipped down and placed a light kiss on Dean’s lips, almost a peck more than anything. “Perfect. Let’s go.” Sam kept Dean’s boots in his hand and turned to walk out the bathroom door.

The crowd of guys waiting for the bathroom parted to let him out. He could see their eyes widen and watched them part even more when Dean followed behind him.


End file.
